


please don't leave me

by katebushfan



Category: Dark (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Feelings, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katebushfan/pseuds/katebushfan
Summary: Jonas Kahnwald is deeply in love with himself. It causes a problem.
Relationships: Jonas Kahnwald/Jonas Kahnwald, The Stranger/Jonas Kahnwald
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	please don't leave me

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, pure pornography. I am so sorry. Also I am deeply terrible with writing <3

"Jonas." A sweet, soft voice purrs in adoration. 

Boyish, beach blond Jonas's breath tickles the back of his older self's ear, the tempo of his breath clumsy and unstable. Nails dig into the supple muscle of Stranger-Jonas's back, replied with a whiny hum through gritted teeth. Jonas strokes the pink marks with his thumb while scattering kisses and lingering touches on etched scars, faint whispers of the struggle that young Jonas has yet to experience. But Jonas embraces it - cock inside his older self; thrusting sweetly; savouring every sculpted feature like a thirst that will never be quenched again.

Stranger-Jonas moans as Jonas abruptly thrusts and pinches his nipple.

"Do you like this?"

A finger follows the healed scarring on Stranger-Jonas's shoulder. The soft, ghostly brushing of fingertips trail along his side, gently tickling the skin, eliciting quick, laboured breaths.

Then a hand crawls on Stranger-Jonas's face, slowly playing with his beard, and the other on his hair, the nails scratching the scalp and dexterous fingers toying luscious fistfuls of hair. The other hand pulls once, gesturing Stranger-Jonas to arch upright, colliding with his younger self's slim frame. His head fits nicely in the crook of blond Jonas's neck, like two puzzle pieces perfectly linked together.

"Look at me."

All Stranger-Jonas thinks is his younger self sounds his own name with slick conviction, his voice husky yet liquid smooth, naive yet authoritative. Without resistance, he leaves his own dignity to the whims of his younger self, and opens his eyes.

"You're so beautiful."

Jonas pulls the Stranger in, their saccharine tastes and their luscious lips mingling together feverishly, like opposing sides fiercely battling against each other. It gets feisty, with Jonas biting Stranger-Jonas's bottom lip, his strong willful fingers combing through the Stranger's disheveled locks of hair, and his thrusts delightfully increasing in intensity.

"Turn around."

Stranger-Jonas doesn't haste, and tries to maintain his younger self's cock inside him, dreading the gaping void and the absence of their union. Once the Stranger crashes on the bed, Jonas shoves himself in with a delightful slap that sinfully echoes in the room. Their chests collide - thin frame against sinewy muscle, stiffened nipples brushing against skin. Jonas grips onto the Stranger's shoulders for support, pushing himself in inside and out in a quickening cycle. Sweat glistens Jonas's fair skin, and his eyes blinding with stars, his pupils dilated in the dark of the room and in sheer infatuation of his older self. Stranger-Jonas sees himself in the reflection of Jonas's pupils, and he sees faded blue equally dilated as his younger self - the former version of himself plowing him with a tenacity unmatched by his own calloused fingers. 

"I'm close," Stranger-Jonas rasps.

His thrusts are steady, in dynamic and speed, like a constant beat of a metronome, or the pulse of the Stranger's hard cock standing proudly. Stranger-Jonas pulls on his younger self's beach blonde hair, its silk golden tufts curling beautifully around his toying fingers. His right hand rakes his scalp, while the other stroking his hot and sweaty shoulder, coddling him with unadulterated love and warmth as he slowly wraps himself in a cocoon with him. The soft prickling of love in his heart combined with the anticipated crescendo of orgasm makes Stranger-Jonas's cock desperate, sensitive, as if the whole of it is vibrating with a lingering wave of intense pleasure.

He interlaces his fingers, embracing Jonas in an intimate hug. Damp skin and warm humid air mingles together, and the tastes of each other's breath become palpable. Jonas tastes of menthol, cold freezing mint. He tastes of comfort. Jonas raises his head from the crook of the Stranger's neck. His eyes are pondering, inquisitive, with a deep sense of longing. He looks scared, needs to be sheltered, needs to have known he's safe here, with himself, his older self's embrace, and be told a promise of safety and paradise.

"You're doing so well," Stranger-Jonas moans, voice husky and brimming with pleasure. "I'm so close." He plants a kiss to Jonas's forehead, tucking in long segments of his hair behind his ears, and pulls Jonas in to rest sweet affirmations in his mouth.

His cock tents against Jonas's stomach, moaning at each thrust rubbing his head onto smooth, supple skin. A large strand of warm precum leaks out of the slit of the Stranger's dick, and he begs for cum to burst through the slit and relieve the crescendo of tension in a paralyzing explosion. He thinks of painting his own belly white like a crazed Pollock, not even giving himself the dignity of catching it into his hand, and a morbid thought of both of them licking their spends in their mouth.

His cock loves the idea.

Jonas smiles wickedly as Stranger-Jonas moans erratically, his voice rasped and mangled into psychotic yelps. His eyes radiate a lustful glow, like bursting supernovas, witnessing this debauched sight, with the Stranger shedding the last of his humanity and becoming a primal animal in submission.

"You and are perfect for each other," Jonas whispers, loud through his ear against a background of skin salaciously slapping and the involuntary whines of the Stranger. "Never believe anything else."

Jonas always wakes up jolting upright, his stomach vacuuming deep in and out, and a hand to swipe his face and comb his growing lustrous hair. Dreams of love and sex (especially with Martha) are fleeting, enveloping Jonas in some form of safety he hasn't felt in ages, but it always ends with falling into an abyss and the descent siphoning his air supply. It taints whatever happiness has been felt, mangling it into a deep painful nostalgia and longing.

But this time, something is different. He wakes up to his cock struggling in the confines in his disheveled trousers, and the clear outline of its hardness bulging through the fabric. It's leaking, in it's final stages before release.

Something in him snaps, fueled by the desperation to complete the dream, freeing his member to grasp it with lukewarm hands, and he _strokes._ He closes his eyes, images of his younger self drilling into him blooming in his head, imagining a real cock pounding into him in and out instead of relying on his fingers. He configures the large shape in his hand, imagining the form of his cock slowly being penetrated into him, the heat of it, the feeling of spend being poured in after a rough pounding.

He raises his shirt up, imagining the young Jonas's hands sweetly frisking his sculpted torso, fingers gently brushing against his pert nipples, in which the Stranger takes his imagination into action by gently flicking and rubbing one with his hand.

He finally reaches to orgasm, with his entire body spasming in one swift motion, and his cock jettisoning hot ropes of cum on his exposed torso. Queasy endorphins flood his brain, sating him into a trance of pure bliss and pleasure, unheard of over the long thirty-three years stuck in post-apocalyptic Winden. Images of joy fade into his head as he breathes deeply - Martha, cycling, the lake, the first kiss.

But one thing resounds in his head, loud and clear, one of guilt and confusion, stemming from the salacious dreams he's had of his younger self, saying: _I am a narcissist._

And Jonas does not want to admit to that.


End file.
